Vampire Redemption
by The JohhnyMcKilt Productions
Summary: Driven insane with the guilt of his sins accompanying what he as become, Oliver desperately wants release. His atonement, however, is a long quest to bring to salvation those who suffer like he.


A/N: disclaimers disclaimers...enjoy!xD

**May **_**vaguely**_** follow and refer to generally accepted historic timeline and events.** If you detest History...well...good luck. You may flame regarding your sentiments; I'll throw them right back at you.

**Please be informed that the aforementioned act does not tantamount to a rule violation in the Writer's Etiquette and Guidelines. **If you're thinking of filing an abuse report, go ahead. We _will_ track you and we _will_ ruin your internet life. If you're cold, indifferent and unfazed by this threat...let's wait and see!

...this just goes to show that I love this project.

**Vampire Redemption**

_**Chapter One**_

It was many centuries before great writers even dreamed of giving life to such creatures of fantasy in their masterpieces. It was to be their unfortunate fate to live and die without knowing that the so-called products of their imaginations actually existed.

- -Gaul, A.D. 900- -

All the doors of the homes fronting a modest manor located on the land to be later known as Savoy were tightly shut.

The villagers lay quiet in the safety of their four walls. With hitched breath, they watched, through crusted windows, the sad plight of the small family whose patriarch was to be held at the mercy of the local vampires.

The death of a truly great emperor during A.D. 800 marked the rise of demonic terror brought about by the earthly life of the Creator. Epic battles between good and evil, in the form of the servants of the Lord versus witches, sorceress, forbidden practitioners of demonic magic (in the eyes of the Church), children of the demons and the sort were sweeping Europe.

Small feudal villages, as ours in Gaul, were turned into sacrificial lands in order to appease such creatures of the dark and buy time until saviors like demon hunters gave the village their freedom.

The time was exactly after lunch hour, but the sky had no sun and was of a gloomy, doom-heralding hue. The day was the third after the Sabbath, which was usually when the vampires came out of their dens to feed.

Escaping the slackened grip of his mother's arms, young Olivier fled to his father who was standing dignified on the village square, internally steeling himself for his final moments on earth. His grass-haired son was crying.

"Don't do it, papa!" The fourteen year-old mind was mature enough to understand. "It's not fair! It's not fair!"

Olivier's father was torn between hugging his son (despite bound arms) and roughly shoving him away and back to his mother, for both their sakes.

"Get away, Olivier! Get back in the house!"

But the boy was struggling hard, yanking and pulling; he would not let his father die.

"It's for the safety of our village! It is the wish of our lord! Go! I do not want you here! Do not witness this!"

"No father!"

There was a blood-curdling shriek from the heavens and three airborne maidens made a graceful touch down on the ground of the deserted village, upsetting dust near Olivier's and his father's feet.

The mother left in the house uttered a whimper but did nothing more. Her anguish fell in saltwater tears from lavender-lilac eyes.

None of the villagers had ever seen the face of a vampire up close and lived to tell about it. The luck of such a phenomenon was unimaginable.

The faces of the three maidens before them were flawlessly smooth like carved ivory. Their large eyes slightly titled upward and were set wider apart than eyes of most Caucasian faces. Their noses were small and pointed, located closer to their mouths which were brown and wide. Sharp, retractable fangs were just visible. Curled locks like those on pretty painted seraphs in cathedrals crowned their deceiving faces. One maiden had hair as bright as the sun they despised; the other's was as black as night and the last's was blood red.

These vampires were pure, products of one of the many children of darkness. They served as his wives whom he sent all over the continent to feast.

"Fresh victims!" rasped the flaxen-haired one who had a voice like a hundred chainsaws.

"Shall we be having two today?" asked her black-haired sister who sounded like a mouse.

"Generous, generous," answered the redhead among them, her voice like the prime seductress in a notorious brothel. "Let us begin with the boy--"

"No, the boy is mine!" argued the first.

"Mine!" screeched the second.

"Mine!" yelped the third and they bared their fangs in a desperate race.

"Olivier!"

He heard his father's voice ushering him out of his fear, but to his horror, the man was killed in his place. Blood splattered everywhere: on the ground, wall and windows.

Driven by the blood lust, the three vampires tore at their victim's body, intent on sucking him dry.

"No!"

Olivier rolled over, wanting to save what was left of his loved one, when a sharp pair of fangs embedded itself deeply in his chest, the place just over his heart, like an axe hacking into a tree.

"The boy! The boy!" the chainsaw and the mouse latched themselves onto Olivier's body and helped their seductress sister.

A searing pain erupted in the greenette's head as he slowly paled, gradually turning the same shade of grey as his father. Unwilling yet weak, he arched to the hypnotic pull of his blood draining out of him. His numbing, chilled body instinctively pressed closer to the growing warmth of the red-haired demon. His heart was flailing wildly, yearning to end its toil with one quick prick.

The vampires were fighting; they were scratching and biting each other with pointed teeth and fingers than had elongated into five lethal blades. They were accusing each other of not giving a fair share. Soon, they joyously agreed that the only way they would be satisfied that afternoon was to take on the entire village.

Olivier's mouth was wide open as he laboriously took in air by the gulp. His vision went in and out of focus as he was staring unseeing at his bickering murderers. To his right he saw the lifeless, dry form of his father.

Drops of hot blood from somewhere overhead flowed down his throat, burning like strong whiskey, coursing every fiber of him as the rearrangement of his being began.

He heard his mother scream his name, although it sounded far away.

**TBC**

A/N: Uh...questions, violent reactions shall be entertained when ye review ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...


End file.
